ok, so... let's experiment with trying to put things into perspective.
first off, I don't want to hurt myself, I don't want to relapse, Sara's doing extremely well, I'm taking considerably good care of myself despite the depression, and although in some ways this feels like a sad excuse for consolation, these are all good things. I don't hate myself. I'm frustrated. I'm really, really frustrated, and I don't know what to do with that, exactly. I don't know what to do with the fact that I'm scared to have a life, and I'm at my wits' end with not having one. the first step is to stay in therapy. do you know I actually started thinking today, "maybe I'm just doing everything wrong. maybe I should still be seeing Harriet. or Judie! maybe I should never have left school." at some later date, hopefully, this will be outrageously amusing. right now, it's just...outrageous and annoying. I can't find any logic in why doing all the right things has not resulted in the right conclusion, so I wonder if doing all the wrong ones would. not seriously, of course. I know that getting out of N*land saved my life, that Rogers was the best thing to ever happen to me, that it was impossible to see Judie after working with Dave, that it was impossible to work with Harriet when I left, and that the doctor is the best thing to happen to my recovery since Rogers kicked it into gear... So. I'm just lost. I mean, maybe this isn't the entirely wrong conclusion. I know that much. truthfully, this isn't a conclusion at all. that's the whole problem. it hurts more than impatience, so I don't know what to term it. it's having worked extremely hard, having done extremely well, at times on my own, at times against the odds, the tide, the current, and the wind... to have done all of that and still have more to do. to have done all of that to get here, a place that feels less good than some of where I used to be. and I know that recovery didn't feel as good - Rogers didn't feel as good - when I started as trying to stay numb... but I was dying then. I could feel it. now, I'm just, so lifeless.
a friend of my mom's offered to come to our apartment, cut my hair, and dye it blue. he has anxiety issues and struggled with agoraphobia in the past. so he said he'd come to me. he said that if I'm going to gather together everything I need to gather in order to go out into the world, I shouldn't waste the energy on a haircut. I should go do something fun *with* the blue hair. so I don't know yet what will happen, but I thought I'd throw that in as an example of really good human beings randomly presenting themselves in my life.
over the past few days... the doctor and I have been on a very "in the future" mode. sort of reassessing how we work together and what we need to do over the next few months. I guess that freaks me out because it makes me think about the time when we won't be working together (which either won't come, in which case there's no point, or will come, in which case, I can't breathe - ever again)... I hadn't heard anything from Sara, and I was worried - and now I find out she's doing really well, and I'm happy, but I'm terrified something's going to happen (because when are things ever ok?) - and I'm also hurt, and scared, and somewhat - not exactly jealous ...desiring? I think about how she's doing well, and even though I know it's not going to be like she shoots up toward the perfect life without another bump... She feels like life's worth it and not so scary and she's at Rogers. she has what I don't have right now: faith and community. I am really tired of doing this on my own. I am really tired of isolating because I don't think someone can handle or should have to handle or should have the burden or be bothered with what I'm going through... I am really tired of not asking for help because I'm afraid I'll disappoint someone if I show them it's not easy. And because I'm afraid of not getting it. I am really tired of crying when I realize that my appointment was on a Monday, and so I have days before I talk to the doctor, instead of just a measly weekend. Of less than a week feeling too long. Feeling so hard. I'm tired of sleeping to get through a day. I'm tired of second-guessing everything. I'm tired of being at a stage no one seems to get. Including me, obviously. Where I don't want to be sick, and I'm doing everything I can to get better, where I'm completely alone, but doing working at the illness that makes things that way (an illness?!? what the fuck? illnesses are supposed to give you sores and tumors and screw with your blood- they aren't supposed to cut you off from the human race!) ...I'm tired of doing everything through the computer. I'm tired of looking at photos where someone's holding me. I'm tired of trying to decide whether or not I want to be a writer. (What the hell does it even matter?...see...because I have no clear indication that this is going to work.) the doctor says it will work. it must work. based on everything I've shown him so far, we can't fail. the best predictor of the future is the past. well, let me tell you about the past. this recurs all throughout it. loss of self-esteem, isolation, hopelessness - again and again and again. and yes, I get out of it, I feel better, I decide I want to live (whoo!) - but I end up back here. and that feels like a cycle that's not stopping anytime soon.
so, life is making the most of the days when I can't leave the house, but at least I don't want to throw myself out of a window? no. that is not life. Rogers is life. Rogers is life. Rogers is...
I know. see. perspective, perception, reality. this is the real stuff. I'm not ugly. I'm not hopeless. I'm just trapped in an apartment away from the people I love because of a set of phobias and beliefs even more complicated than my eating disorder - which make me think everything and its opposite regarding people, why I can't be around them, relationships, why I can't have them, Rogers, why it's everything, why it can't be, why I love them, why they love me, why they can't, why they won't, why they don't, why I have to move on, why I have to hold on, why I have to move on to have them, why moving on is betraying them...on and on and on and on and on.
this? this is the really, really stupid part of recovery where all you know is you feel like shit, and you can't even understand why, let alone start doing something about it.
~me